


After Hours

by PhoenixGryffin



Category: Julius Caesar - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Julius Caesar - Freeform, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 03:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1843165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixGryffin/pseuds/PhoenixGryffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brutus had known that he would have to work overtime today for awhile now, but what he had not expected was for Cassius to stride into his office half an hour before closing time, heavily flop down on the unoccupied swivel chair in front of Brutus’s computer, and begin to rant about Julius Caesar and his mayoral tactics. </p><p> <br/>Modern-day Julius Caesar AU in which Rome is run by the corrupt mayor Julius Caesar, Cassius owns a smartphone, and Brutus gets an email from a mysterious 'brutusluvr69', among other things. Other possibly romantic things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Hours

“Can you _believe_ Caesar lately,” says Cassius, rotating idly in the swivel chair that he had been occupying for the last quarter of an hour.

They’re in Brutus’ office- Brutus had known that he would have to work overtime today for awhile now, but what he had not expected was for Cassius to stride into his office half an hour before closing time, heavily flop down on the unoccupied swivel chair in front of Brutus’s computer, and begin to rant about Julius Caesar and his mayoral tactics.

It’s now two hours after closing time- as far as Brutus knows, he and Cassius are the only ones left in the building- and Cassius is still going on about Caesar. Brutus agrees wholeheartedly with Cassius’s sentiments- Caesar’s policies have slowly gotten more and more dictatorial, after all, and no one knows it better than Brutus. But there isn’t really anything they can do about it. Nothing that he can think of, anyway.

Brutus tells Cassius that there’s nothing they can do about the situation in an attempt to quiet him for a few seconds. Not that Brutus doesn’t love listening to the gorgeously melodic tones of Cassius’s fast-talking voice, but he really just wants to finish his work and go home, and for some reason it’s hard to pay attention to his computer screen when Cassius is there constantly talking.

Cassius stops rotating in the chair and stares at Brutus over the top of the computer screen. “What do you _mean_ ‘nothing we can do about it’?”

“I mean,” says Brutus, meeting his gaze, “the next mayoral election isn’t for almost three years. The people of this town chose Caesar as their leader instead of Pompey or one of the other candidates, and there’s nothing we can do about that.”

Cassius throws his head back and laughs. It’s a short bark of a laugh, almost maniacal, and Brutus is more than a little bit alarmed by it.

“Well, yeah, I guess that’s true. If you want to stick to the petty legalities, that is.”

“What are you _implying_?”

Cassius drops his gaze, apparently refusing to meet Brutus’ eyes.

“Cassius, what the _hell_ are you implying?”

Cassius shrugs almost apologetically before answering.  “I’m saying we take him out. Vigilante-style, almost. We can’t get him out by adhering to the law, so we bend it.”

“And by ‘bend the law’, you mean?”

Brutus is pretty sure he knows what’s coming, but it still doesn’t keep him from being horrified when Cassius softly replies, (almost nonchalantly, like they’re discussing novels over afternoon tea) “We kill him.”

Brutus shushes him immediately, more out of instinct than anything else. Cassius laughs again, quieter and more bitterly this time.

“Oh come on, Brutus. We’re alone, aren’t we?”

“I think so,” Brutus admits. “But still, this is a public building. Anyone could be listening in, you never know. We could be thrown in jail for even mentioning something like this...” He trails off, not knowing how to continue.

The expression on Cassius’s face fades to one of solemnity. “You do realize that this is exactly why he has to go, don’t you? Our government is supposed to be democratic. People should be free to express their own opinions. But now, seems like everyone who disagrees with him gets thrown into jail. Or banished.”

“Yes, Cassius, I know that as well as you do. But I don’t think that plotting to _kill_ Caesar is exactly the same as simply disagreeing with his policies-”

Cassius holds up his hand and begins speaking over Brutus. “Point made. But there are still people out there, normal people, everyday humans just sharing opinions, and Caesar doesn’t like some of those opinions. Remember Publius Cimber?”

“Who?”

“Metellus Cimber’s brother,” says Cassius. “Journalist.”

Brutus nods, remembering.

“Well anyway, a while ago he wrote this editorial column about why Pompey would’ve been a better mayor than Caesar. Very polite column, actually. Very decent. And what’d Caesar do in response to this politely phrased critique? Caesar fucking _exiled_ him. The guy can never come back to the fair town of Rome, at least not while Caesar’s in office. Although the way things are going, it won’t be so fair of a place soon anyway, so maybe he got lucky.” Cassius sighs, and it doesn’t seem to be simply for dramatic effect. In that moment, he simply looks weary and old and sickened by what their town has become. Brutus understands how Cassius feels, recognizes the same feeling in himself.

“So,” says Brutus after a long pause, “so you’re just planning on waltzing into City Hall and killing him, then?”

“Oh, it’s not just me,” replies Cassius. “Metellus Cimber’s in on it too, of course, after what happened with his brother. So’s Casca, Cinna- a lot of people, actually. And you, of course.”

Brutus nearly chokes from surprise. “Me? What on earth do you need me for?”

Instead of answering, Cassius deftly swivels his way around the computer so that he is directly facing Brutus. There’s nothing in between them, and Brutus suddenly finds himself feeling incredibly awkward and unsure of himself, which is of course absurd. They’ve talked together many hundreds of times. There isn’t any reason why he should suddenly feel flustered in Cassius’s presence.

Of course, Cassius has never grasped both of Brutus’s hands so earnestly before, has never stared directly and unblinkingly into Brutus’s eyes the way that he is now. Cassius’s eyes really are stunning, thinks Brutus offhandedly.

“Goddammit, Brutus, are you even _listening_ to me?” snaps Cassius exasperatedly, jolting Brutus from his reverie. He still hasn’t let go of Brutus’s hands yet.

“I…”

“Clearly not, because then you would have noticed that I’ve been complimenting your oratorical skills and your overall popularity with the townspeople.”

“You have?”

“Well, I _might_ have been, but now I guess you’ll never know, since you wouldn’t pay me the courtesy of listening to me. Shame,” says Cassius faux-mockingly, attempting to keep a straight face but failing miserably.

“I’m flattered,” replies Brutus, but he forces himself to stay serious, to get his mind back on what Cassius had been asking him to do before. No matter how enjoyable he may find Cassius, the fate of Rome depends on their conversation, and ultimately Rome is more important than anything.

“So,” says Brutus. “You want me to help you murder Caesar.”

Cassius nods, still clutching Brutus’s hands in his, still meeting Brutus’s gaze with his own.

“I can’t decide right away, Cassius, this isn’t a walk in the park here, this is _murder_  we’re talking.”

“You have to. We’re killing him tomorrow.”

“ _Tomorrow_?” There’s no _way_ that he can just agree to something like this on a whim. He has to know what the people think, has to think about it himself for hours and days and weeks to find out if it’s really the best overall course for Rome. He tells Cassius this, but Cassius shakes his head, clearly beginning to get agitated.

“ _Look_ , Brutus, I realize you’ve got to- oh, I don’t know, think through every single goddamn decision you make or whatever, but tomorrow is the only day it’s going to work. Tomorrow’s March 15, and Caesar’s been saying that on that date he’s going to “address the citizens’ concerns”, whatever the fuck that means. Point is, he’ll be right out there, and it’ll be our only opportunity to put a bullet through his head. After tomorrow, he’ll return to the privacy of his office, and we’ll have missed our chance until who knows when. Possibly forever.”

“I realize that,” replies Brutus softly, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I realize that, but are you really sure that this is right for Rome?”

“It is. Trust me, it is.”

“I hate Caesar as much as you do, but how do you know that the people won’t just hate us for killing him? What if they all love Caesar? What if Rome ends up in anarchy because of us?”

“With your help, that won’t happen. But that’s why we need you. _I_ need you.” Cassius speaks softly, convincingly, as if to a lover, but Brutus still has too many doubts to allow him to go through with this with a clear conscience.

“Cassius, I _can’t_. I don’t know what the people think, I don’t know whether or not they want this. I can’t be responsible for Rome’s fall.”

Cassius stares at Brutus for a brief second, friendly gaze changing to one made of ice.

“ _Fuck you._ ” Cassius, pain in his voice, lets go of Brutus’s hands while standing up and violently pushing the swivel chair to the other side of the office, where it dangerously ricochets off the wall and nearly comes back to hit him, “you complete _asshole_ , I don’t even think you _care_ about Rome-”

“Don’t even say that,” interjects Brutus quietly. “Don’t say that. I stay up late almost every night wondering what’s best for Rome, whether I’m doing the right things for this town or not. Rome’s the most important thing in the world to me, you _know_ it is.”

Cassius stands still for a moment, and for a moment Brutus thinks he’s going to storm out, but instead he just nods, falls back heavily, wearily, into the swivel chair. When he notices Brutus still watching him, he hurriedly pulls out his smartphone and begins typing madly- texting, probably. After staring at him for a few moments more, Brutus finally returns to his work.

It’s funny, but now that Cassius finally isn’t talking, the room seems a lot bigger, a lot more empty, and Brutus regrets his earlier wish to make Cassius be quiet. The room is a lot more lonely without Cassius’s voice, the void filled only with the faint _tap-tap-tap_ of his fingers as he texts whoever it is.

Brutus desperately wants someone, anyone, to reassure him, to convince him that he’s doing the right thing for Rome, _something_. The more he dwells on it, the less sure he becomes that he made the right choice.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later or so, Brutus finally finishes his work. He quickly checks his email, not expecting to find anything in his inbox given the extreme lateness of the hour. To his surprise, however, there are three new emails that weren’t there before. Their subject lines read “ _Caesar_ ”, “ _Problems with Caesar_ ”, and “ _i rly hate_ _caesar!!!!_ ”, respectively.

“Cassius,” says Brutus, voice echoing unnaturally loudly in the quietness of his office.

“What,” replies Cassius flatly, not looking up from his phone, apparently still insulted by Brutus’s initial refusal to murder Caesar.

“Come look at these emails,” offers Brutus.

“Emails?” Cassius jolts up at that, and is standing at Brutus’s side in a heartbeat.

Brutus clicks on the first one, “ _Caesar_ ”.

It reads:

_Brutus,_

_Lately I have become aware of the fact that our “dear” mayor Julius Caesar is not, in fact, as dear as he would have us believe. I am incredibly opposed to all of the atrocities he has committed lately. I do hope that it is within your power to do something about this dreadful, dreadful leader who is obviously unfit to lead our community._

__

_Yours, A Concerned Citizen_

Cassius is lightly drumming his fingers on the table. Brutus reads the letter over one more time, just to make sure that he wasn’t imagining it.

“That’s strange,” he says, frowning slightly.

“What is?” Cassius’s question comes almost before Brutus has finished speaking.

“Well, we were just talking about Caesar, and then all of a sudden these three emails about him appear. Don’t you think it’s kind of a strange coincidence?”

Cassius laughs nervously, hastily shoving his phone into his pocket as he does so. “Must be more unpopular of a guy than you thought, I guess,” he says, and with that he places his left hand over Brutus’s right, which is on the mouse, drags it over to the next email, “ _Problems with Caesar_ ”, and clicks. Brutus involuntarily feels a shiver course through him when Cassius touches his hand, like a thousand little electric shocks. He doesn’t mind it, though, and finds himself strangely disappointed when Cassius takes his hand away.

The next email reads:

_Hey Brutus,_

 

_You seem like a pretty cool guy who’s done some pretty cool stuff for our community. Therefore, I think you should do something about Mayor Caesar. He is the uncoolest guy around. Getting rid of Publius Cimber for criticizing him? What’s THAT about, am I right? He’s turning this town into a dictatorship. Soon it’s gonna be like one of those books that take place in the future where we can’t think for ourselves and have to worship him. That’s pretty bad._

 

_-Anonymous_

Brutus sighs lightly upon reading the entire email, not sure whether to be amused or concerned.

“Caesar is pretty bad though, so he- I mean, the person, we don’t know who this is- does have a point,” says Cassius, chuckling softly.

“Yes, but...” Brutus trails off, unsure how to continue. There’s _something_ that seems off about these emails, he’s sure of that, but he can’t quite place what it is.

“Come on, let’s read the next one,” says Cassius hurriedly, but Brutus, still contemplating the letters, purposely doesn’t move the mouse, so once again Cassius places his hand over Brutus’s. It’s more gentle this time, more deliberate. Even after Cassius clicks on the email, he doesn’t remove his hand. The two of them read it with their hands lightly touching, Brutus with his heart in his throat and feeling lighter and freer than he has in a long time despite the fact that tomorrow they could potentially be assassinating the mayor of Rome.

The final email, entitled “ _i rly hate caesar!!!!_ ” reads as follows:

_dear brutus!!!!!_

_first of all let me say that u r SO HOT OMG!!! u r DEFINITELY an honorable man if u know what i mean ;))))))))) but srsly. u know who is the WORST AND NO FUN. caesar thats who. caesar more like SNEEZEr bc hes so weak lmao did u see how he fell down that one time? WEAK. but hes also just the worst. everyone hates him. everyone. hes awful._

__

_i love you, brutus. but you love rome more. so please, do this for rome, if nothing else._

__

_XOXOXOXOXO u ROCK BRUTUS KILL CAESAR 4 ME MAYBE STAB HIM 23 TIMES IN THE CHEST OR SOMETHING (IM KIDDING BUT ALSO NOT PLZ KILL HIM) <3333333333_

__

_love, brutusluvr69 ;)_

“Classy. ‘Brutusluvr69.’ Very cultured indeed,” says Cassius.

His hand is still resting on Brutus’s, and Brutus thinks briefly that he never wants Cassius to take it off, wants to feel the light touch of Cassius’s fingers on the back of his hand for the rest of eternity. Brutus stays completely still, not daring to move, not daring to breathe.

“So,” says Cassius without taking his hand away, “are you going to help me?”

“I-” Brutus looks into Cassius’s eyes, Cassius’s beautiful eyes that are gazing at Brutus like he’s the center of the universe, and Brutus promptly forgets what he was going to say. He drops his gaze and stares at the computer screen instead. There was _something_ off about the messages, he was sure of it. He stares at all three- all from different, unfamiliar email addresses, all about Caesar.

“They’re all anonymous,” he finds himself saying, before he fully realizes the words emerging from his mouth. “I almost never get anonymous emails, let alone _three_. Citizens of Rome tend to be very outspoken about their opinions.” Cassius doesn’t say anything, only stares at him with an expression that Brutus can’t discern.

“And another thing,” continues Brutus, “the last time I checked my inbox was about three hours ago, and none of these emails were there then. That means that these three emails- three _anonymous_ emails, all about the problems with Caesar, were all sent at some point within the last three hours.” Cassius continues staring at Brutus with the same unchanging expression on his face, hand still resting on Brutus’s, and Brutus desperately wants him to say something, _anything_ , to give some sign that he’s heard and is comprehending Brutus’s words.

“Don’t- don’t you think there’s something suspicious about that?” adds Brutus lamely in an attempt to break the silence.

Instead of answering, Cassius simply reaches over and grabs Brutus’s free right hand with his own left, and Brutus feels a sudden sense of serenity despite all that’s going on.

“Brutus,” says Cassius, gently squeezing Brutus’s hands, “Promise me this. Whatever you do, do it truly because you think it’s the best thing to do. Don’t do it because of some stupid fucking anonymous emails, or because I told you to. Whatever you decide to do, do it for Rome.”

And then Cassius leans forward and kisses him.

It’s a light kiss, barely brushing Brutus’s lips, but it feels _right_ , makes sense to Brutus in a way that nothing else lately has seemed to. Cassius releases him, hurriedly rises from the swivel chair and turns to go.

“Wait.” The word escapes from Brutus’s mouth before he can stop himself, and he stands up just as Cassius turns back around to face him.

This time, Brutus initiates the kiss. It’s a more intense kiss this time, and Cassius seems to be taken aback at first, but relaxes into it and slowly moves his hands behind Brutus’s head, holding him close. Kissing Cassius is different from any other kiss that Brutus has ever had. It’s passionate and longing and- Brutus doesn’t like to describe things, especially not kisses, as ‘perfect’ because really nothing is perfect, but this kiss is pretty damn close.

The two of them remain there, bodies pressed together, for a while longer. Brutus has no idea how long the kiss lasts. It could have been over the span of just a second, or perhaps it lasted years. All he knows is that eventually they do break apart, and Cassius awkwardly removes his hands from where they had been entangled in Brutus’s hair and self-consciously ruffles his own. He turns to leave again.

“I’m in,” says Brutus, finally sure of his decision now.

“You what?” replies Cassius, rotating to face Brutus once again.

“Tomorrow. We’re going to kill Caesar. I am, and you are, and so is everyone else you mentioned earlier.”

“Brutus, you’re not just doing this because, you know-”

“It’s best for Rome, Cassius. Best for Rome, and best for us.”

Cassius’s face lights up at some point while he’s talking, although Brutus can’t tell whether he smiled at the word ‘Rome’ or ‘us’. It doesn’t really matter, though. Tomorrow they’re going to kill Caesar. Tomorrow he and Cassius will be side by side, and together they will finally emancipate their town.

The two of them leave the office together. Neither of them feel like calling a cab, so hand in hand they walk through the streets of their beloved Rome.

 

**Author's Note:**

> …And then everything ended happily ever after. What do you mean 'they die at Philippi'. 
> 
> But yeah, I thought it seemed fitting to end this story with 'Rome'.
> 
> Also, the 'u r DEFINITELY an honorable man if u know what i mean ;)))))))))' while being a reference to the original text of Julius Caesar, is also a not-so-subtle reference to what is arguably the most (in)famous Julius Caesar fanfiction ever written, Honorable Men. It's a true work of art.
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


End file.
